


Haunted

by WolfstarGarden



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Feels, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, R/S 24 Hour Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 18:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13417374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfstarGarden/pseuds/WolfstarGarden
Summary: “I love you, Moony,” Sirius huffs. “I’d lose my mind if I had to bear this without you.”Remus snuggles into him. “I know.”It's November 1981 and Remus and Sirius are still together.





	Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt:  
> A ghost story.  
> Try and use at least a few (or more, or all haha) of the following objects/verbs/general words: armoire, dust, biscuit, quill, spiral, nest, prowl, oblivious, banister, shadow
> 
> The result:  
> I'm a monster

Remus opens the armoire and a cloud of plaster dust billows from it, slamming into his face. His eyes scrunch shut and he snuffles, nose tickling, but doesn’t sneeze.

The cloud settles and he blinks blearily into the shadow of space, desperately searching for something, _anything_ that may have survived destruction. His eyes rake across the jumble of objects and suddenly it’s all too hard, the truth too savage. Remus slumps to the floor, drawing his knees into his chest as he stares blindly at the shelves in front of him.

“Why did I think I could do this on my own?” he whispers. Remus’ eyes are blisteringly dry even as a sudden panic grips him, squeezing his heart in a vice-hard grip. Remus gasps and rubs vaguely at his chest but it doesn’t help – the horror of reality unhinges him and his breathing becomes an increasingly ragged huff, until he’s hyperventilating, overcome by the desperate sadness.

It feels like his soul is being torn apart.

It feels worse than the full moon.

He starts screaming.

He can’t stop.

Time rolls by unseen, until: “Moony! Moony, where are you? Fuck, I’m coming!” The voice sounds like it’s coming from an unfathomable distance, echoing through the water in Remus’ ears. Something wraps hard and heavy around his head and everything turns black.

Remus scrabbles blindly at whatever is holding him, trying to fight it off as a fresh surge of terror washes over him. “No, no! Leave me be, leave me...”

“Remus, it’s okay.” The words are belied by the tone they’re spoken in; shaky and tearful and every bit as distressed as Remus is.

But he recognises the voice and stops fighting, sinking against familiar hardness. His screaming stops and in its absence Remus hears the babble of tandem confused crying – one is the yelping hysterics of the very young; the other an almost silent, spasmodic gasping.

Remus reaches out, hands closing roughly on the firm body wrapped around him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers in a cracked, rasping voice.

The arm around him tightens, pressing closer. “It’s okay,” comes the choked reply.

They sit together for a long time. Remus can’t bring himself to pull away; he feels raw and exposed, more vulnerable than when the other Marauders admitted that they knew he was a werewolf, more vulnerable than the first time they saw him transform.

This is so, so much worse.

The dual crying eventually stops and they all tremble in the haunted silence until, after a very long time, Sirius’ hushed voice says, “I knew I shouldn’t have let you come here alone. You should have waited for me.”

“You were busy. I thought ... I hoped...”

“Sh, shh.”

Remus unwinds himself at last. He glances up at Sirius’ face – even while puffy and miserable from crying the man manages to look handsome. His hand slides down Remus’ shoulder and they shift slightly, fitting closer together. Coiled in Sirius’ other arm is little Harry – all cried out, but looking every bit as awful as they both feel.

Remus bends his arm up, closing his shaking fingers over Sirius’ hand. He presses a dry kiss to Harry’s hair, which already shows a tangle of messy curls to rival James’... the thought sets a fresh course of grief washing over him.

“How long will it be until I believe they’re really gone?” Remus whispers.

Sirius’ hand tightens in a bracing squeeze. “When I find out I’ll let you know. Moony ... what were you looking for?”

Remus sucks in a deep breath, glancing around the room, re-orientating himself. His heart is thudding against his lungs. “I just wanted to salvage something – _anything_. How can life just be _gone_ like that ... and everything they own was destroyed. It’s like...” Remus’ voice drops to a whisper so soft he can barely hear himself. “It’s like they never even lived.”

Sirius moves convulsively beside him, but doesn’t speak. They know each other so well; Sirius understands that Remus has more to say.

“I just wanted to find something for Harry to have, something tangible. Some photographs, you know ... or James’ Quidditch gloves or Lily’s recipe box ... but I guess you’re right – I shouldn’t have come alone. It’s too soon.”

“No,” Sirius murmurs. “It’s a wonderful thing you’re trying to do, Moony. Dumbledore told me today that the Ministry wants to level the cottage and erect a monument. He’ll hold them off for as long as we need, though.”

“Even the _house_ will even be gone, then? Can they do that?”

Sirius shrugs, reaching up to tangle his fingers through Remus’ hair. “I don’t know.”

That unknown sits heavily for a moment, then Remus sighs and reaches to take Harry from Sirius, scooping him onto his lap and staring down at him. He chokes out the words he hasn’t wanted to say; they feel so heartless and unfair. He rasps, “I can barely look at you now, bambino. Lily’s eyes ... James’ hair. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to look at you without seeing the life they should have had.” Harry is watching him with oblivious curiosity. Remus looks away, fixing his eyes on Sirius’ red ones. His voice thickens with sorrow. “They were just starting out, Padfoot. I mean, we all knew it could happen, but ... it’s not _fair_.”

The words are little better than a cliché and they’re not enough, but it’s just so damn _true_. James and Lily are dead and it just is not fair.

Sirius holds him tight, Remus resting against him with Harry carefully squashed between them. He doesn’t seem to mind; the usually active child has been very subdued. Remus knows in his bones that Harry is going to remember that night – but he wants him to have the good memories and not just the traumatic end of the happy life he ought to have known.

Eventually they know they have to move, that they can’t stay in their nest of black memories forever. With a heaving effort Remus scrambles up from the floor, Sirius right behind him and together they turn once again to the armoire.

It is easier to approach the task with Sirius beside him Harry sits on the bottom shelf and reaches randomly into the depths to pull out strange and wonderful items. Each one is a torture of memories – James’ ancient gold Gobstones set, Lily’s collection of chocolate frog cards. There is also James’ favourite eagle feather quill, and a stack of love letters and other correspondence – including an unfinished letter to Peter. The spiral of Lily’s handwriting spreads down the page.

Remus snatches it out of Sirius’ hand furiously. “Is it evidence? Can we use it at his trial?”

Sirius takes it back gently, though he’s barely managing to keep his own temper in check. “Hopefully,” he growls. “But we’re not looking at it now – when Harry’s in bed tonight, okay?”

Remus glares at him but eventually relents. Slowly, they move through the house, collecting anything they can salvage.

There’s an old photo album lying in the ruined stones scattering what had once been the drawing room. Sirius picks it up and Remus runs his fingers gently across the leather cover. “This,” he whispers. “This is exactly the sort of thing I wanted to find.”

Sirius chokes on a sob and steps into Remus’ embrace. “Remus ... this is enough for today. Can we go, please?”

Remus nods. “Yeah ... I can’t take much more of this.”

Something rattles behind them and Sirius spins, wand in hand. “Did you see that?”

Remus turns more slowly, switching Harry from one arm to the other. “What?” he asks, low and wary.

“There was something ... I heard something. Moony...”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, grabbing Sirius’ shoulder. “It’s probably just ... just a pigeon or something...”

The rattle comes again and some stones crumble away from a scorched doorway. As they shift, a small object is freed and rolls forwards. Remus waivers, then a pair of large glowing eyes gleam through the dark. “The fuck...”

“Remus!” Sirius cries, pushing him back as a hex forms on his tongue.

And then, _impossibly_ , the smallest sound echoes across the exploded room and a lithe creature pounces forwards.

“ _Prowl?_ ” Remus and Sirius cry in unison – and there she is: Lily’s cat standing over the dislodged item. Sirius slips his wand away and steps towards her, reaching a calming hand out – but despite all that has happened the frazzled cat is not afraid, not of them at least. She leaps elegantly into Sirius’ welcome and then Sirius makes a strangled noise and clumsily lifts an expensive toy broom from the shattered floor.

“I can’t take any more of this,” Remus mumbles, blundering forwards and crashing Sirius to him, spinning into Disapparition.

l-l

The shower is not hot enough to cleanse the sorrow from his soul, nor the smuts from his skin. Remus sits beneath the scalding sheets of water, waiting for it to wash him clean. There is a sharp, acute ache in his chest and he is so overwrought from the day that Remus knows he will never truly heal. Eventually he gets out of the shower, only because he wants to see how Sirius is, to check on Harry.

Sirius is leaning against the landing banister when Remus steps out of the bathroom. He steps into Remus’ dripping arms, crushing their bodies tight together. “I’m so sorry, Moony. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Neither do I,” Remus mumbles. They simply stand, trying to both absorb and give strength at the same time. “How’s Harry? How’s Prowl?”

Sirius sniffs and draws back just a little. “I can’t believe she survived,” he mutters, “She’s pretty shaken but I think she’ll be okay. And I’ve just laid Harry down. Merlin’s balls Remus ... what if we get it all wrong? How are we going to do this?”

“I don’t know,” Remus says desperately, clinging fingers biting bruises into Sirius’ shoulders. “But we have to.”

There is so much to deal with, so much to think about and Remus cannot do it for another minute, not today.

Sirius is squinting at him. He murmurs, “Together,” and butts his forehead gently against Remus’ before shifting to fix their lips together, passion and fear and horror mingling into one sweet touch. They meld together.

With a soft sigh, Sirius finally leans back and presses Remus into a warm hug. “I love you, Moony,” he huffs, rubbing his cheek across Remus’, stubble over rasping stubble. “I’d lose my mind if I had to bear this without you.”

Remus snuggles into him. “I know.” It’s all he can manage to say even though he wants to express so much more, to tell Sirius how deeply he cares, how badly he hurts.

Sirius shudders and tries to force a smile but they’re both too emotionally shattered. “Come on – let’s have a cup of tea. Fixes e-” He breaks off abruptly.

Remus swallows. Lily always said ‘a cup of tea fixes everything’. The painful reminders are far more diverse than Remus could have ever imagined. He pushes a tremulous smile onto his reluctant lips. “Just put a lot of Firewhisky in it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sirius says softly, coiling an arm around Remus as he steers him towards their kitchen. “And how about we open that packet of chocolate biscuits to go with it?”

Tea and biscuits are so mundane a way to cope that Remus feels they are almost insulting to James and Lily’s memory. But they’re as good a place to start as any.


End file.
